Just One of Those Days
by DarthMittens
Summary: Harry has an awful day that leaves him feeling frustrated, and he wants nothing more than for the day to finally end so he can just put it behind him. Little does he know, the perfect remedy awaits him in the Gryffindor common room. H/Hr. Pure Fluff. One-Shot.


**Just One of Those Days**

"I've seen enough today. Practice is over."

The team stopped what they were half-heartedly doing and flew dejectedly down to the pitch, then walked off into the locker rooms. Harry hadn't moved an inch — he was still floating there, staring at the goalposts, anger boiling in his stomach.

It had just been one of those days. First, he had lost Gryffindor ten points in Snape's Defense Against the Dark Arts class for 'breathing so obnoxiously loudly that other students were having trouble concentrating.' Shortly after that, during lunch, he had to sit silently and listen as Ron complained about how clingy Lavender was — Harry honestly didn't care to hear Ron moaning about something he had the power to fix. Then, in Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class, he had been unsuccessful in performing a spell that conjured birds despite having been able to do it when they first went over it the previous week — there was something in the way that Professor McGonagall's lips had thinned that made him feel like a lost cause. After class ended, he had gone back to the common room to work on his History of Magic essay, which was almost complete after a week of work, then Neville accidentally banished it right into the fireplace while trying to help a younger student. Harry had assured him that it was okay because he remembered most of it, but it really wasn't. It had set him right on the edge of erupting.

Then there was Quidditch practice. Ron was somehow missing or dropping the Quaffle every time it came to him, Katie and Demelza were completely out of sync despite somehow having the time to frequently gossip about something or another, and Jimmy Peakes had lost control of his broom and crashed right into a goalpost, meaning they were down a member after he had been taken to the hospital wing. And to top it all off, Ritchie Coote had accidentally hit Harry square in the face with his bat after it had slipped out of his hand mid-swing.

Harry made sure to stay up in the sky, which was quickly fading from pink to dark purple, for a long, long time, taking deep breaths all the while. He was sure the last time he had been this frustrated was when Dumbledore had been ignoring him throughout the previous school year. He wouldn't make the same mistakes he made back then, though — he planned to stay outside for as long as it took for him to calm down so he didn't take it out on his friends.

It wasn't until after the sky had turned completely dark and some of the owls flew out of the owlery to start hunting for the night that he finally started heading for the ground. He wasn't completely calm, but he was getting there, and it was starting to get cold out. He figured he would make it back inside just in time for a late dinner, a small bit of homework, then bed. There was little else that could go wrong that night, then he would wake up the next day and everything would be great again.

That little bit of optimism was immediately dashed when he landed — he hadn't been paying attention and ended up landing right in a pile of mud. Expecting to set foot on solid dirt, he had dismounted his broom quite quickly, leaving him without enough time to stop himself from slipping and falling face-first right into it. For several seconds, he simply laid there, face still in mud, arms comically splayed out, wondering if it wouldn't be better if he just stayed like that until someone came looking for him the next day. He was done — he gave up.

A biting breeze swirled through the Quidditch stadium only a few seconds later, though, prompting him to extricate himself from the mud and waddle towards the warmth of the castle. His clothes were completely covered in mud and, as they were now soaking wet, clung to his body. He normally would have been able to just use magic to clean and dry himself, but he hadn't brought his wand to practice. This meant he had to walk through the castle and up Gryffindor tower as he was until he could get to his wand — he just hoped everyone was at dinner.

He miraculously managed to make it to the tower, leaving a muddy trail behind him all the while, without running into anybody, which he was thankful for, and stepped gingerly through the portrait hole after the Fat Lady had given him a disapproving cluck of her tongue. Just when he thought he was home free, he saw the back of a head poking out from over the back of an armchair in the common room. He silently tiptoed towards the boys' stairs—

 _WHAM!_ Harry's foot connected hard with a table leg.

"Oh — god —" he wheezed as he clutched his pinky toe through his shoe. Then, as his breath came back, he swore so loudly his ears were ringing afterwards.

" _Harry_!" a familiar voice said, shocked.

Harry looked over his shoulder to find Hermione's face peeking out from behind the armchair — she had been the one he saw. "I couldn't care less about my language right now, Hermione," Harry said, absolutely fuming. "That really f—" Hermione's eyebrows shot up "—that really hurt."

Hermione still had a disapproving look as she stood up, but when she got close and finally saw the front side of him, the look switched to confusion. "What happened to you?"

Harry, still massaging his toe through his shoe, said, "I don't want to talk about it."

Hermione waved her wand and cleaned him off, then waved her wand again and dried him. Then she poked his shoe with her wand and the pain in his toe went away.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, feeling a bit sheepish after his outburst. He never swore like that.

Hermione simply gave him a soft smile, which made him feel considerably calmer. "Maybe you should call Dobby and have him bring you dinner up here," she said wisely.

"You're probably right," Harry said, feeling the tension his shoulders melt away. He glanced at the clock and realized it was far later than he thought it was — he had spent more time calming down than he thought he had. The reason he hadn't run into anyone while returning to the common room had to be because they were all already in bed.

He followed Hermione over to a couch and they both collapsed back onto it. Hermione seemed even more exhausted than he felt.

"What's up with you?" he asked. He realized he hadn't seen her all day — she hadn't been hanging out with him all that much since Ron had started seeing Lavender. _When was the last time I spent time with her?_ Now he felt something other than anger — regret. He had been neglecting Hermione.

She yawned, then said, "Working on homework and Prefect stuff. Have to pick up Ron's slack since he started going out with Lavender — she takes precedence over his other responsibilities, apparently."

Harry frowned. "Well that's not right," he said.

Hermione shrugged. "It is what it is," she said. "At least this way I get the final say in everything."

Harry nodded while wishing he had the same optimistic outlook Hermione had right now. He would be feeling a lot better if he could look on the bright side. He called Dobby and politely asked the house elf to grab some dinner for him and Hermione. Dobby assured them it would be the most delicious dinner they would ever have, then disappeared with a crack. He returned several minutes later with a rotisserie chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. It really did look delicious. After 'thank you's and a wave, Dobby went back to the kitchens.

The two of them dug in, eating in silence as they savored the truly delicious meal, and when they were done, Hermione let out a contented sigh and sank back into the couch. "So, are you finally going to tell me what had you in such a tizzy earlier?" she asked. Her eyes were closed, but Harry knew they would be sincere if they were open — her voice wasn't mocking in the slightest. "I'm curious as to what made you not only swear, but to shout it like you did. I know that came from more than just stubbing your toe."

Harry knew it would be better to just get it off his chest at this point, so he told her everything that had happened that day. He knew it sounded petty and petulant that he was so mad over such small things, but he just couldn't help it. It was too much.

Hermione yawned again and waved a dismissive hand. "No, I get it," she said. "Sometimes you just have those days — the ones that make you want to never leave your room again. I've been having them quite a lot recently."

"Because of Ron?" Harry asked knowingly. He had seen the look on her face when Ron had first kissed Lavender.

Hermione snorted. "Because of you," she said as if it was obvious.

Harry's eyebrows drew together. "What'd I do?" he wondered.

Hermione didn't answer, but a playful smile pulled at the corner of her lips.

"Oh, come on," Harry said. "You can't just say something like that and then not tell me why I'm the one who's responsible for you having days filled with frustration."

"You're doing it now," she said in a lilting voice.

Now Harry was completely confused. "Seriously?" he asked. "What is it, really? Is it just me talking?"

"Hmmm," Hermione wondered. She finally opened her eyes, just a little bit, to glance at him appraisingly, before she let them fall closed again. She let out another yawn. "No, I like it when we talk," she finally said. "It's when you're dense, like you're being now. Or when you're attached to Ron at the shoulder and I'm sitting up here all alone." She didn't sound upset, but Harry felt a pang of guilt in his stomach.

"I'm sorry," Harry said sincerely. "I was just thinking earlier that I've been a bad friend to you recently. Squabbling over the Half-Blood Prince and Malfoy; ignoring you to hang out with Ron."

Hermione gave a very slight, nonchalant shrug. "You have a lot going on. I don't blame you," she mumbled sleepily.

Harry sighed — he felt even worse than before. "What did I do to deserve someone as wonderful as you in my life?" he mused aloud. He normally wasn't one to dole out such praise, but he couldn't help it right now. She was exactly what he had needed after the long, crappy day he had been having, and he wanted her to know it. She was always there for him, even when he was being a complete ass to her (even if it was inadvertent), and knew exactly how to help him.

Another smile made its way to Hermione's face. "I wonder," she said cryptically, as if she knew something Harry didn't. She sounded a little more awake than before — Harry's praise had hit its mark.

It was late enough that the only source of light in the room was the fireplace, which was throwing long, flickering shadows across the walls. He listened to it crackle for a long minute as he thought of what to say, though he didn't necessarily mind the comfortable silence the two of them were sharing. This type of silence was something he had only ever had, and he imagined he only ever would have, with Hermione. There was just something about the way their personalities clicked that didn't require verbal communication for them to enjoy each other's company. Just being around her was enough for Harry, a lot of the time, and he imagined she felt much the same.

As Harry looked around the room, taking it in as the fire illuminated it, his gaze came to rest on the book Hermione had been reading in the armchair — the book was sitting on the coffee table in front of the chair. _Hogwarts, A History_ , the spine read. Hermione had lied to him — she hadn't been working on anything of importance when he had walked in.

Just as he turned to ask her why she had lied, he felt something touch his shoulder. He looked over to find Hermione's head against it, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling steadily as she breathed — she had finally passed out.

"Oh," he said under his breath as everything clicked. She had been waiting for him to return. "Merlin, I'm an idiot."

He felt bad for doing it, but as a thought struck him, he gently nudged Hermione back awake. She groaned, but kept her head against his shoulder and her eyes stayed closed.

"Come on, let's go to our rooms," he said softly.

"I don't want to," she said stubbornly. "I just want to stay right here. I'm too tired."

Harry admitted he liked the feeling of Hermione using him as a pillow, but he knew actions had consequences. "If we stay down here like this all night, people will come down here and get the wrong idea about us," he said. Rumors spread fast and stuck in Hogwarts.

"I don't care," Hermione said.

" _Ron_ might get the wrong idea," Harry said bluntly.

Hermione softly scoffed. "Like I care," she said indignantly. "I think _you_ have the wrong idea regarding how I feel about Ron."

Harry was surprised by this. "I thought you liked him," he said dumbly. Hermione was just full of surprises tonight, and he realized she was acting quite strangely.

This time Hermione giggled. "Please, Harry," she said, still sounding close to sleep. "I'll admit I was jealous, but not of Lavender."

"You were jealous of Ron?" Harry asked incredulously. His mind was working overtime trying to figure this all out. "Wait, you like Lavender? I'm so lost."

Hermione was smiling that playful smile again, though her eyes were still closed. "No, just jealous of what they have, even if it isn't going to last. I always thought, for some reason, that I would be with someone long before Ron, but that _someone_ 's been a bit dense lately. I just...I was more than a little frustrated with that someone that night."

Harry's heart started pounding in his chest, though he wasn't completely sure why. "Who's that someone?" he asked, mouth dry. His heart raced even faster.

"You'll know when that someone knows," Hermione replied, speaking in riddles yet again. "Trust me."

Harry found the familiar frustration from throughout the day make its way back into his system. This was yet another thing to add to the list of things that were bugging him. Why was Hermione making him jump through hoops like this? Weren't they best friends?

She nestled herself against his shoulder a bit and let out a soft sigh, prompting Harry to glance down at her again. The light from the fire painted Hermione in a soft, smoldering light that caught her face just right, drawing Harry's attention straight to her lips, which were glistening.

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. He didn't know if it was because he hadn't been around her much for a while, or if it was because of how close they were to each other, or if he was just sleepy, but he didn't know if he had ever seen anyone as beautiful as Hermione looked at that moment.

He had a brief moment of shock as he realized he was thinking about Hermione like this for the first time ever, then reminded himself that it was okay — she was a girl his age; of course something like this was bound to happen eventually. It helped that they clicked on every level and that she was there for him every time he needed her, without fail. He didn't know what he would do without her. It wasn't much of a stretch for those feelings to develop into something more.

An icy fist of dread gripped his heart when he suddenly thought of her words about having a special _someone_. Would that mean, when this someone person pulled their head out of their butt, that he would have to soon learn exactly what he would have to do without her? He didn't know if he could bear to see that come to pass. His heart physically hurt as he drank in her sleeping face with his greedy gaze once again. This would probably be the one and only time they had a moment like this, after all, and he wanted it to be crystal clear in his memory.

"Still haven't sussed it out?" she mumbled. She sounded half-asleep.

"Give me a hint," Harry whispered back.

Nothing but a small smile.

"Come on," Harry pleaded.

"If you figure it out, I'll have to move," she said. "The longer it takes you, the better."

Harry wondered why him figuring it out would make her have to move. Did she think he would be upset and go upstairs? Did she think he would be disgusted and recoil?

However, he felt like he was close to getting the answer, now that he had this new information. He wondered why his heart was thumping so loudly in his ears.

He had to try to get _something_ out of her. "Have you known this person a long time?"

Hermione seemed to debate for a moment whether or not to answer. "Since first year," she said.

 _So he's a sixth or seventh year_ , Harry thought triumphantly.

"Is he a sixth year?" he asked.

"Harry…." Hermione replied warningly, though her eyes were still closed and her head was still against his shoulder.

"Fine," Harry said. Then, curiosity getting the better of him, he asked, "Why haven't you just told this person how you feel?"

Hermione seemed to stiffen a bit. "It's complicated," she said evenly. "On the one hand, I want him to know for a multitude of reasons. On the other hand, I'm afraid of what will happen if he doesn't like me. I've found, though, that as I've gotten older, I've started to worry about the consequences less. I can't take him not knowing any longer."

Harry's stomach burned with jealousy even as his heart continued to thump away. He was getting way too worked up over this. He hadn't felt this way about a girl since his first crush, Cho Chang, and this feeling was considerably stronger than it had been with Cho. The mere thought of Hermione spending all her time with this someone was almost too much for him to handle. When he was younger, he might have pinned these feelings on their friendship, but he knew better now. This was nothing short of a very strong romantic interest in his best friend, and realizing this made him feel calmer, somehow. He felt as if he was confirming something he had known all along.

"With you against my shoulder like this, both of us happy and relaxed, bathed in the warmth of the fire, I'm almost kind of wishing you were talking about me," Harry half-joked, trying to make light of the sudden explosions of emotions accompanying his revelation. As soon as it left his mouth, though, he wanted to take it back. He was an idiot to even joke about it — he didn't want to ruin the perfect mood they had going.

Hermione's head finally lifted from his shoulder, and she was wide awake, a bewildered look on her face. "Okay, now I know you're doing this intentionally," she said. "How long have you known?"

Harry was completely lost. "Er — I'm not entirely sure I know what you're talking about."

"Do you kind of almost wish I was talking about you or not?" she asked.

Harry swallowed hard. He knew it had been a bad idea. "Hermione, I...I don't know what to say," he said. "I'm sorry."

Hermione sighed. "Now I'm really having one of those days," she said, shoulders slumped. Then she narrowed her eyes at him. "You're doing this on purpose."

Harry made an exasperated sound. "I'm not doing anything!" he said defensively.

"That's exactly the problem!" Hermione cried.

"Fine!" Harry said. He would do something, then. Something he had wanted to do for the last few minutes, ever since he realized he what he had known all along about Hermione.

He leaned over, wrapped one arm behind the small of her back so she couldn't escape, brought the other to the back of her neck to hold her in place, and closed the gap between them, not even stopping when Hermione's eyes went wide and she let out a small sound of surprise.

Then his lips were pressed against hers and she was kissing him back and they were melting into each other, everything else forgotten. They kissed, and kissed, and kissed, until finally Harry was forced to let her go as he broke away, his cheeks and ears burning as he caught his breath.

"There, I did something," he finally said triumphantly. "Happy?"

Hermione's cheeks were flushed and she, too, was panting. She cocked a satisfied grin at him, wet her lips, and said, "Yes, actually. For the first time in a couple months now, I can confidently say that I'm happy."

Harry blinked. For the second time that night, everything clicked. "I really am dense, aren't I?"

"Just a little," Hermione teased.

She leaned over and gave him another kiss, then pushed his shoulders back against the couch again so he was sitting normally. He went along with it, still processing the fact that Hermione had been talking about him all along — he didn't snap out of it until he felt Hermione's head on his shoulder again. A thought struck him.

"Why did you think I wouldn't let you sleep on my shoulder if I figured out you were talking about me?" he asked.

Hermione sighed happily, then yawned again. "You know how I worry," she said.

"I would be a lot more than merely 'just a little dense' if I didn't return your feelings," Harry said.

"Oh — I suppose it makes me lucky you're only just a little dense, then," Hermione said with a soft chuckle.

"You got that right," Harry said proudly as he leaned his own head back and closed his eyes.

He jumped a tiny bit when he felt something touch his hand, then relaxed as Hermione's fingers intertwined with his. His skin tingled where it touched hers, and he felt warmth bloom through him. Hermione's breathing evened out a few minutes later, and as Harry felt his own consciousness fading, he couldn't help but think that it had been a perfect day.


End file.
